


mess.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Body Paint, Dirty Talk, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Pregnancy, M/M, Power Imbalance, Pregnancy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14987351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Anonymous prompt: "grandmaster/loki, threat of non-consensual pregnancy?"





	mess.

Loki is a mess. 

Bent over the back of the long sofa in the arena’s viewing chamber, he scrabbles uselessly at the cushions beneath him, his chest heaving, his body trembling. The Grandmaster drives into him in fast, deep strokes, and every thrust leaves Loki gasping, his cock pressed hard against the sofa and grinding down. 

Paint is spattered over Loki’s mouth and belly, neon paint that glows whenever it catches sunlight, and Loki can feel the stickiness of the Grandmaster’s handprints and drawn symbols on his body, threatening to draw him from his own skin.

“What if I-- Ha.  _Naughty_.” The Grandmaster’s hands slide warm and demanding over his back, and then in a flash of magic that heats over Loki’s skin, Loki is sprawled on his back on the arm of the couch, his shoulders lower than his hips, and the Grandmaster is holding one leg up against his shoulder as he drives even  _deeper_. Loki can scarcely breathe, staring desperately up at the Grandmaster, and then the Grandmaster’s hand is on his belly, playing over the skin. “What if I, mmm, put a baby in you, huh?”

Loki’s blood runs cold.

Already, he is trying to disentangle himself, trying to draw away, but the hand that isn’t on his belly goes straight to his throat, pinning him solidly in place, and Loki grunts, but finds he lacks the leverage to  _kick_. The Grandmaster is smiling at him, his golden eyes  _alight_. 

“No?” he asks softly. “I mean, Lo-Lo,  _honey_ , I’m always, ha, I’m always a little worried that you’ll run away on me, but uh... Guess you couldn’t do that, if I kept you knocked up.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Loki hisses. “Don’t-- Grandmaster,  _stop_  it--” Fear is a tangled mix of feeling in his belly, squirming under the touch of the Grandmaster’s hot fingers, and he feels anxiety tie his guts in knot, his own magic thrumming under his skin. The Grandmaster is right - were he pregnant, Loki could never  _hope_  to flee Sakaar, couldn’t possibly entertain the risk. Norns, he hates it. Norns, he hates  _himself_. 

“Oh, but I don’t-- I don’t wanna stop, sweetheart,” the Grandmaster purrs, and he is buried to the hilt now, no longer thrusting but instead rocking his hips right inside Loki’s cunny, and Loki cannot stand it, cannot stand the slow  _pierce_  of his body... “I just wanna... Wouldn’t you look so good, huh? Nice and-- I’d love to see this belly big and heavy, see your little tits all  _swollen_ \--”

“Jotnar don’t lactate,” Loki mutters, and then, “Grandmaster,  _don’t_ , I don’t want to, I don’t like--”

“I’m gonna, uh, I’m gonna come inside you, Lo-Lo,” the Grandmaster whispers. “Gonna fill you  _right_  up... And maybe this time it’ll catch, huh?” Loki squeezes, trying to force the Grandmaster out of him, but it just makes the Grandmaster moan, and he can feel the awful  _spurt_  of white-hot come inside him, feels himself  _writhe_  and hiss--

And the fear doesn’t go away: it grows inside him like a seed. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/ask). Requests always open.


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